


Just One Look (And I Can Hear A Bell Ring)

by Sokkas_First_Fangirl



Series: I Lay My Life Before You [3]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Character Development, Don't copy to another site, He's got his own story now, In which we see Dazmen's point of view, M/M, Personal Growth, Remember that fiance I made up for Freddie?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 03:23:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17635100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sokkas_First_Fangirl/pseuds/Sokkas_First_Fangirl
Summary: Dazmen Yazadi was not used to rejection. As a rich, handsome Alpha he was used to getting his way.Then he met Farrokh Bulsara and the way he viewed the world was thrown upside down.





	Just One Look (And I Can Hear A Bell Ring)

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to "BornScreaming" for the lovely comment on "I Lay My Life Before You" that gave me this idea. Dazmen Yazadi interests me, even if I wanna slap him at first. 
> 
> The CEO of my workplace is coming in this week so the stress is piled up; I'll finish editing the last few deleted scenes in "My Love, My Life" when he goes. However, I couldn't resist writing from Dazmen's point of view in the meantime. So without further ado, here's Dazmen's story.

**_“Dazzle me, dazzle me, dazzle me with gold. You’ll never be what you wanna be with all that money, that money. Dazzle me, dazzle me, throw away your gold. You’ll never be what you wanna be with all that money, that money.” -Dazzle Me,_ ** **Oh Wonder**

 

**Bombay, India, 1964**

Dazmen Yazadi was not used to rejection. Maybe that sounded arrogant, but it was true; he was a young, handsome, well-off Alpha in a country where Alphas ruled all. Of course he was used to getting his way.

 

His family were all businessmen, mostly dealing in exports. Textiles, foods, you name it, they dabbled. His immediate family weren’t the most prestigious branch of them all, far from it in fact, but it was still expected that he would make a good match. His parents always said they’d find the perfect one for him and truthfully he believed them. He wasn’t too bothered of course, he was young yet, but he was thankful. Dazmen was used to comfort, to being sure of his place in the world; he knew what he wanted and knew how to get it.

 

Then, at twenty-three, he met Farrokh Bulsara.

  
  
  
  


His grandfather, Taher Yazadi, was friends with one Jaidev Bulsara and had been since boyhood. The two old men often met up on the weekends for long chats about their families, their jobs and generally to have a good gossip. They could natter on even more than their wives. It was during one such discussion that the topic of Jaidev’s grandson, the family’s sole Omega came up. According to Jaidev his grandson needed to settle down; he evidently thought it was safe for an Omega such as himself to wander the streets at all hours, unescorted.

 

“The unruly little thing needs to settle down and soon!” Dazmen overheard the old man grouch at one point. “He’ll land himself in trouble if he’s not careful!”

 

Honestly, Dazmen hadn’t given it much thought. Some unruly little Omega wasn’t his problem.

 

Except, suddenly, he was.

 

His parents wished to speak to him privately and explained it all; they (meaning his father: his Omega mother would have no say in this) and his grandfather agreed it would be a good idea if he married Farrokh Bulsara. It only made sense, they said. Their families were friends, both were well off enough (though the Yazadi family were certainly richer), and Farrokh was near his age- what was not to like?

 

For a moment Dazmen hesitated. He was twenty-three, surely he was still a little young for this? And Farrokh was only  _ seventeen.  _ He’d prefer an adult, not a child.

 

“He’ll be eighteen this September. If you consent, the wedding will be just after his birthday,” his father said patiently. Not quite smiling, but with a pleased gleam in his eye, his father slid a photo towards him. “Here he is,” he said. “Take a look.”

 

Dazmen looked at the photo. He wasn’t expecting much, but he was...a little bowled over if he was honest. The photo showed a young man with thick, curly black hair that just skimmed his shoulders, high cheekbones and big brown eyes. Full lips, an inquisitive tilt to his head, an almost challenging smirk playing on those lovely lips. He wasn’t traditionally handsome but there was something eye-catching about him, something...something  _ arresting.  _ Yes, that was the word. Even through a simple photograph the boy managed to appear alluring. 

 

“He’s quite lovely,” his mother said quietly.

 

Dazmen nodded, unable to take his eyes from the photo.

 

“Well? What do you say, son?” his father asked.

 

Slowly, Dazmen began to smile. He could easily see himself walking around Bombay with this lovely boy on his arm. To see Farrokh Bulsara walking down the aisle towards him suddenly sounded a delight.

 

“When can I meet him?” Dazmen asked and his father finally smiled.

  
  
  


**Stone Town, Zanzibar, 1964**

**_“Get your hands off my hips before I punch you in the lips, stop your staring at my- HEY! Take a hint, take a hint! No, you can’t buy me a drink. Let me tell you what I think: I think you could use a mint. Take a hint, take a hint!” -Take A Hint,_ ** **Victoria Justice and Elizabeth Gillies**

 

No, Dazmen was not used to rejection, not at all.

 

Not until Farrokh Bulsara came along.

 

He was every bit as lovely as the photograph- even lovelier in person. A photo couldn’t do justice to the beauty of his eyes, nor to shine of the sun on his raven black hair. And no photo could have prepared Dazmen for the look of fury in Farrokh’s eyes when they were introduced.

 

All the same, he smiled down at him and said, “Hello Farrokh.” He tried to hide his surprise when the young Omega refused to answer, only turning on his heels and marching into the other room. Bomi Bulsara began quiet, frantic apologies as his wife rushed after their wayward son. Their daughter seemed to find the whole situation hilarious; Dazmen could see her trying not to laugh.

 

Okay, so it wasn’t a great first meeting, But Dazmen was nothing if not stubborn; he and Farrokh had been promised, Dazmen had consented to the wedding. It wouldn’t be too hard to win Farrokh over, surely? The Omega may not want this marriage  _ now,  _ but he was young: perhaps he was just nervous. It wouldn’t be too hard to put him at ease. If he could just get Farrokh into an actual conversation…

 

He’d been drilled on the boy’s interests, so at least he had something to start with. Bringing him flowers and taking a walk on the beach sounded perfect, almost like those romance novels Omegas were said to love.

 

He actually thought it was going well on that beach- until Farrokh grinned and he got his first real look at the Omega’s overbite. It was a shame really; he was so beautiful otherwise. They’d have to do something about those teeth, Dazmen couldn’t possibly let his future-husband walk around Bombay like that.

 

He said so.

 

It had been a royal mistake in hindsight.

 

Farrokh’s smile vanished, his eyes darkened with anger again; his small hands clenched into even smaller fists. “No,” he said firmly. “If I mess with my teeth it might ruin my singing.”

 

“Your singing?”

 

“Yes, my singing. I want to be a singer.”   
  


Of all the foolish notions! Singing! It sounded like a child’s daydream to him. Dazmen shook his head, smiling, a little amused if he was honest. “Don’t be silly,” he said patiently. “An Omega’s job is to stay at home. You’ll be too busy looking after our children to be chasing after dreams, Farrokh. So many people want to be singers.”

 

“So many people aren’t  _ me, _ ” the boy snapped and began to stomp away, nose in the air. “And you needn’t think I’m having your children, Dazmen. Because I can tell you this, you won’t have me.”

 

“Farrokh? Farrokh!”

 

He was ignored.

 

Jer Bulsara came hurrying up behind him, worried eyes on her son. “What happened?” she asked.

 

Dazmen sighed. “Oh, it was silly,” he assured her. “I mentioned fixing his teeth and-”

 

“Oh dear,” Jer cut him off. She shook her head and the look on her face suddenly made him feel very foolish. “Well,” he heard her say to herself. “That’s that then.”

 

He didn’t think so. He was still sure he could win his fiance over- he charmed everyone he came into contact with, why should this be any different?

 

But it  _ was  _ different. As the weeks passed Farrokh stayed cold and unresponsive. The mere sight of Dazmen seemed to turn the boy to stone. He couldn’t get a proper response from the Omega at all- and not once did Farrokh apologise for being rude! It was a shock; all Omegas he knew were demure little things. They spoke only when spoken too, they kept their eyes modestly on the floor and drifted about quietly. Not so Farrokh Bulsara; when he walked the streets of Stone Town all eyes turned to follow him. With his chiming laugh (never aimed at Dazmen, it was only ever for his little sister), with his head held high and the subtle sashaying as he walked he commanded the attention of the whole street. He wandered off alone for hours on end; he was friends with Omegas, Alphas and Betas alike. Alphas! Did he not realise what damage he could do to his reputation? An unwed Omega was not meant to be in the company of an unrelated Alpha alone- it was the reason Jer accompanied them everywhere for the duration of Dazmen’s stay. 

 

Farrokh was infuriating and fascinating. Part of Dazmen wanted to call the whole thing off. But a much larger part of him wanted Farrokh Bulsara by his side, for all that the boy caused him headaches. He just couldn’t figure Farrokh out...But he found that he wanted to. Rather a lot in fact.

 

At the end of the month, when he was due home again, he tried to kiss Farrokh’s hand at the airport. The Omega pulled away, lips pulled back in a sneer, showing off his teeth (really, it wouldn’t kill him to get them fixed).

 

“I’ll see you in September,” Dazmen said, tired and still stubborn. “And I’ll write to you- or call if you prefer?”

 

He half hoped for Farrokh to smile and state his preference, to promise to write back and apologise for his behaviour- but no. The young boy only said coldly, “Neither,” and turned to frown at the nearest wall.

 

Bomi Bulsara apologised again and (again) Dazmen assured him it was okay. Farrokh would come around.

 

And on the flight back home Dazmen really did think he could still win Farrokh over. Just give it a little more time and the Omega would realise how silly he was being. By the time they saw each other again in September Farrokh would be happy to marry him.

 

He should have known better.

 

He had barely arrived home when they received news that Farrokh was gone.

  
  
  
  


**_“Something’s made your eyes go cold. Come on, come on, don’t leave me like this. I thought I had you figured out. Something’s gone terribly wrong, you’re all I wanted. Come on, come on, don’t leave me like this. I thought I had you figured out. Can’t breathe whenever you’re gone, can’t turn back, now I’m haunted.” -Haunted,_ ** **Taylor Swift**

 

He wasn’t there for it, but this is what Dazmen heard. Jaidev and his wife had gone to visit Bomi and Jer, to discuss “the circumstances” as his own father put it. It was a week after Farrokh’s disappearance when a letter arrived; specifically, a letter for Kashmira Bulsara.

 

The maid had come into the living room, timidly explaining there was a letter for young Kashmira. It was from Farrokh, she recognised the handwriting on the envelope. Kashmira had jumped up with a cry of joy- a cry of joy that quickly turned to a scream of despair as Jaidev snatched the letter and tore it to shreds before anyone could even glimpse the stamps, let alone the return address.

 

Just like that, their only lead on Farrokh’s whereabouts was destroyed.

 

Apparently Jaidev had instantly been horrified with himself but the damage was done; Bomi roared at him to get out over Kashmira’s frantic sobs and Jer’s cries.

 

Despite swimming in his own humiliation, Dazmen had to admit: when he heard the story he felt awful for the Bulsaras. 

 

Within the year Dazmen was married to a suitable Omega; Manjit, a young man of twenty years with a shy smile and downcast eyes, a modest demeanor and gentle voice.

 

Manjit was entirely unlike Farrokh.

 

It took longer than Dazmen cared to admit for that to stop bothering him.

  
  
  
  


**Bombay, India, 1985** **  
** **Day of Live Aid**

**_“Just one look and I can hear a bell ring. One more look and I forget everything. Mamma mia, here I go again. My my, how can I resist you? Mamma mia, does it show again? My my, just how much I’ve missed you.” -Mamma Mia,_ ** **ABBA**

 

It had been twenty one years. Dazmen rarely, if ever, thought about Farrokh anymore. He was married and doing quite well for himself, thank you very much. Manjit was a perfectly agreeable husband; demure, kind and he seemed to possess an everlasting patience. Truly, he was probably the calmest man Dazmen had ever met. Were they in love? Not especially. But they got along well together and Dazmen was content to say that Manjit was his best friend.

 

Add on that they successfully had four children and really, they  _ were  _ doing well. Three boys and one girl, all Alphas, bar one: their youngest child, a boy named Lalit was an Omega like Manjit. At fifteen he sometimes reminded Dazmen sharply of Farrokh; he was passionate, stubborn and loud. Tell him off and he’d laugh in your face. He was trouble with a capital T but Dazmen loved him. Suddenly, when he heard stories of parents beating their disobedient Omega children, he was chilled to the bone. As a young man he had nodded approvingly at those tales. Omegas needed to know their place. But now? The very idea of striking any of his children, let alone beating them until they bled and were marked for life, made him sick. Was he strict? Certainly. His children would argue he was  _ too  _ strict, but would he ever lay a hand on them? No. There was a world of difference between slapping them on the back of the head for cheek and sending them to hospital. 

 

_ (He almost wanted to find Farrokh and say “I’m sorry, I get it now. I didn’t see it then, but I understand now. Can you forgive me?”) _

 

Other than Lalit, there was his eldest child, Suman, a strapping Alpha of twenty years of age. He was studying to be a surgeon, dating a lovely Beta girl who also studied at his college and Dazmen couldn’t be prouder of him.

 

His only daughter, Anisha, was a typical Alpha when it came to her temper. She was explosive when angered and sneered at anyone who looked at Lalit too long. At nineteen she was beautiful as a rose- but her thorns were deadly. 

 

Finally, there was Chandan. Seventeen years old and the musician of the family. Not traditional music though, heaven forbid. No, he was obsessed with Western music, particularly Europe. He could rant and rave about a band called  _ Queen  _ for hours if you let him. He seemed torn on if he wanted to marry the band’s singer or drummer if he could; his answer changed daily. Whenever a new album came out he’d play it for weeks at a time, loudly singing along at all hours.

 

Truthfully, Dazmen had no idea what the band was like. Despite hearing their music blasted full volume by his son he never paid much attention. He just didn’t care for music. Facts and figures were his speciality; give him a maths book and he’d be happy as a clam. Hand him a guitar and he’d be clueless. He knew  _ Bohemian Rhapsody,  _ he was sure that everyone in the world knew that song, but other than that he had no idea what the rest of their songs were called. Present him with a picture of the band and he’d have shrugged his shoulders cluelessly.

 

Well, no. Present him with a picture of the band and he’d have gaped at the singer in shock. Present him with a picture of the band and maybe he wouldn’t have looked such a fool during Live Aid.

 

It was Chandan’s idea to watch it of course. At his insistence the whole family was gathered in the living room, waiting for the show to start. It was for a good cause and the music was good too, brilliant in fact, but Dazmen still only half paid attention, still thinking about work and wondering about hiring a new secretary, when  _ Queen  _ was announced.

 

“Her Majesty-  _ Queen! _ ”

 

Chandan let out a whoop of excitement. Lalit, lounging on the floor, sat up straighter with a grin. Even Manjit, Anisha and Suman seemed to be paying more attention.

 

As the introduction to  _ Bohemian Rhapsody  _ began, Dazmen spared a half-glance at the screen- and then froze.

 

No way. There was just  _ no way. _

 

_ “Mama...Just killed a man…” _

 

It couldn’t be.

 

_ “Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger, now he’s dead…” _

 

But it was.

 

Playing the piano in front of thousands of people, playing and singing to the whole world, was his former fiance. Dressed simply in a white tank top and blue jeans, a studded belt and armband, his hair much shorter now and with a moustache to boot, was Farrokh Bulsara.

 

_ “Farrokh!?” _

 

Lalit rolled his eyes. “That’s Freddie Mercury, Baba,” he said.

 

But Manjit was squinting at the screen with a frown before turning to his husband. “Farrokh Bulsara?” he asked. “That’s never him!”

 

That seemed to catch Chandan’s attention. “Farrokh’s his birth name. How’d you know that?” It seemed to physically pain him to look away from the screen, but he looked at his parents in confusion. All the children were staring at them actually, but Dazmen could only stare at Farrokh (Freddie?) in shock and something like awe.

 

He was still small and slight, still had that overbite and those overwhelming eyes. He still commanded everyone’s attention; the entire crowd was singing along at the top of their lungs. But what caught Dazmen’s attention and held it was this: Farrokh was wearing an engagement ring and gold wedding band and there was an obvious bond mark right where his neck met his shoulder; the skimpy tank top didn’t come anywhere close to hiding it.

 

He watched in shock as Farrokh jumped up from the piano, grabbed a microphone and danced along to- whatever song they were playing now. Something about a radio?

 

“Baba?” Chandan was frowning now, eyes narrowed. “You don’t even like music, how’d you know his name?”

 

And it all came out.

 

“I...I was engaged to him once.”

  
  
  
  


**London, England, 1987**

**_“Love of my life, you’ve hurt me. You’ve broken my heart and now you leave me. Love of my life, can’t you see? Bring it back, bring it back, don’t take it away from me because you don’t know what it means to me.” -Love Of My Life,_ ** **Queen**

 

Two years later the Yazadi family took a holiday to London.

 

Chandan had seemed to take it as a personal insult that his father was once engaged to  _ the  _ Freddie Mercury and never thought to say so. Dazmen’s honest explanation that he had no idea who Freddie was didn’t win him any points. (Chandan also maintained that  _ he  _ wanted to marry Freddie. Or Roger. Or Freddie  _ and  _ Roger.)

 

Manjit, poor Manjit, was just highly uncomfortable to talk about it all again. They’d long since put the whole story behind them and bringing it up again made him squirm. Dazmen couldn’t say he blamed him.

 

Lalit seemed to find the whole thing hilarious.  _ Typical. _

 

But after two years, Dazmen made his peace with it. Honestly he was a little relieved to know his ex-fiance was alive and well. (He tried to ignore the little stabbing feeling in his chest when he thought of the rings on Farrokh’s fingers or the bond mark on his neck. Farrokh wasn’t his to be jealous over anymore- and maybe he never  _ had  _ been Dazmen’s to begin with. All the same, he wondered just who had won the tempestuous Omega over.) After two years the fact that his ex-fiance was a world famous singer just became another fact of life. Against all the odds he hadn’t just survived, but  _ thrived  _ and was beloved by the entire world. (Dazmen tried to ignore the swell of pride in his chest at that realisation. Farrokh wasn’t his to be proud of either, especially not when Dazmen had looked down his nose at him for his aspirations.)

 

After two years, life went on.

 

When they got to London all he thought about was seeing the sights and enjoying a rare opportunity to relax. He was determined to put all thoughts of work out of his mind. Heeding Manjit’s advice he was determined to spend time with his children.

 

They ran into Farrokh by complete accident.

 

They were waiting (im)patiently for Anisha to finish taking photos of Big Ben (surely ten was more than enough?) when Chandan suddenly tensed and outright  _ squealed. _

 

_ “Freddie Mercury!” _

 

Sure enough, there he was. Clean shaven again and walking hand in hand with a tall, mustached Alpha, Farrokh turned with a certain degree of caution at the sound of his new name. When he saw it was only an overly excited teenager calling him, he smiled sweetly- then froze when he saw Dazmen.

 

_ “Dazmen!?” _

 

Suman coughed awkwardly. Manjit looked warningly at Lalit who outright laughed. Anisha nearly dropped her camera. The Alpha holding Farrokh’s hand stared Dazmen down; he seemed to know who he was and Dazmen supposed that, unlike himself, Farrokh had told his family everything.

 

Dazmen couldn’t quite seem to get his breath. Over two decades and here he was, standing in front of Farrokh Bulsara. Unlike his childish daydreams from the 60s, Farrokh was not arm in arm with him. Farrokh clung to his husband, looking at Dazmen like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, as if  _ Dazmen  _ was the surprise in all this. 

 

No, the surprises were this; Farrokh was alive and well. Farrokh was a world famous singer. Farrokh was one of his son’s idols. Farrokh was married to another man. Farrokh…

 

Farrokh was pregnant.

 

His hand rested lightly on his stomach, just swelled enough to draw the eye. When he realised where Dazmen was staring he drew himself up to his full height and stared him down. He seemed to expect a fight.

 

For once, Dazmen had no intention of causing one.

 

He took a deep breath and smiled.

 

“How have you been, Far- Freddie?”

 

Farrokh- no,  _ Freddie-  _ relaxed. “I’m quite alright. Great, actually,” he said. He glanced at the Alpha holding his hand and said, “Um, this is Jim.”

 

Dazmen inclined his head and gestured Manjit forward. “This is Manjit, my husband. And the four gaping brats are our children.”

 

Manjit stared at Freddie like he was the most curious thing he’d ever seen, though when Freddie smiled he offered his own cautious one in return. Jim held Freddie closer, though he’d noticeably relaxed himself.

 

Chandan pushed Dazmen out of the way with a cry of “Can I have your autograph!?”

 

It finally broke the ice; Freddie laughed aloud and gestured Chandan forward. “Do you have anything I can sign, darling?” His grin widened when Chandan handed him a crumpled napkin. Dazmen’s son was practically vibrating in excitement, bounding on the tips of his toes. Dazmen rather thought the boy was pushing it when he asked for a photo, but Freddie acquiesced with grace. Jim let out an amused huff and stepped back as Chandan loudly demanded for Anisha to stop staring and take the photo.

 

As Freddie and his husband turned to leave, Dazmen couldn’t hold it in anymore.

 

“Freddie, I’m sorry,” he blurted out and watched as Freddie’s eyebrows rose in surprise. His lips pursed, his head tilted, he looked at Dazmen like he was a puzzle to figure out.

 

“Sorry for what?”

 

“For...Well, for everything.” He struggled to articulate it all, knowing full well this was his only shot. “I treated you like a doll, not a person. I didn’t listen to anything you said or thought or felt and...and that was wrong of me. I’m sorry.”

 

Freddie looked at him steadily, eyes still so breathtaking, before he suddenly grinned, teeth on full display. “It’s fine,” he said, clearly amused. “It was years ago.”

 

“Still, I just...I’m sorry.”

 

His smile was close-lipped then; shyer, sweeter. “Thank you.” He nodded at them all and walked off, still hand in hand with his husband.

 

“I just met Freddie Mercury,” Chandan sighed happily. “I got a  _ photo  _ with  _ Freddie Mercury. _ ”

 

“Don’t start crying,” Suman said flatly.

 

“Too late.”

 

Dazmen barely heard them. He stared after Freddie as he walked away; he laughed at something Jim said, head thrown back. His hand went back to his stomach. His beautiful eyes looked at Jim like he hung the sun in the sky- and Jim looked at him the exact same way. Their rings glittered in the sun.

 

A small part of him, the part that had never quite gotten over his infatuation (because he could see that was all it had been now), wanted to rush after Freddie and beg for another chance. His inner, overwhelmed twenty-three year old wanted to hold Freddie in his arms, wanted to reverse time and try again.

 

The much larger part of him, the logical, grown-up, family man knew how ridiculous that was.

 

Farrokh Bulsara wasn’t his. Freddie Mercury wasn’t his either. He never had been.

 

Dazmen turned back to his family and linked arms with his husband, offering a soft smile. “So, it’s the Tower next isn’t it?”

 

Maybe he had been more of a dreamer than he gave himself credit for. He had laughed at Freddie for his dreams, but he had gone out and chased them anyway, proving Dazmen wrong. But hadn’t he dreamed of Farrokh Bulsara for a long time? 

 

It was time to put those dreams to rest for good.

 

He walked away with his husband as Freddie walked away with his. Two different directions.

 

Dream time was done. They wouldn’t meet again.

 

Finally, Dazmen was at peace with that.

  
  
**_“I was thinking ‘bout you, thinking ‘bout me, thinking ‘bout us, what we gonna be? Open my eyes, it was only just a dream. So I travel back down that road. Will she come back? No one knows. I realise it was only just a dream.” -Just A Dream,_ ** **Sam Tsui (cover)**

**Author's Note:**

> And there you have it. The guy grew.
> 
> Some stuff had to be cut for pacing's sake, so here's some extra information: Dazmen and Manjit are not in love but I see them being best friends and one hell of a duo. They both love their children dearly and for all intents and purposes have a good marriage.  
> Dazmen took a while to come around to Manjit properly. He was still stewing in embarrassment and anger, still hung up on his daydream of marrying Freddie and the marriage was off to a rocky start. Add on that he still had it in his head that the Alpha was in charge no questions asked and it wasn't exactly a warm relationship. Slowly but surely however, he started to notice how Manjit seemed almost AFRAID to speak up. He started to notice how his husband seemed so unhappy and finally started to reach out and form a relationship. The recent rejection from Freddie really changed his view of the world.  
> Some things never change; for one Dazmen is still of the opinion that Alphas are in charge first and foremost, though heaven help the Alpha that raises a hand to Lalit. That wouldn't be pretty.
> 
> The Dazmen we see at the end of the story is a very different Dazmen from the start. Does that mean he and Freddie would have made a good marriage? No. They're far from right for each other; Dazmen was infatuated with a pretty face and a daydream, nothing more. Freddie would have been totally stifled and miserable. And when it comes to children? It's one of those AUs where they'd either never manage to have children, or Freddie would pass away in childbirth. Dazmen is stubborn and children are rather a point of pride; it never would have ended well.
> 
> But is Dazmen a bad guy? Nah, I don't think so anyway. I think he needed that wake up call though, or he could/would have remained that spoiled boy, too proud to admit he's wrong. Ironically, Freddie running away was good for Daz too.
> 
> Name meanings:  
> Dazmen- jasmine flower  
> Manjit- conqueror of knowledge  
> Suman- good mind  
> Anisha- supreme  
> Chandan- sandalwood  
> Lalit- caress, charm


End file.
